Phantom Pains
by Cookiekitten
Summary: "Your mind tricks you into thinking whatever's missing is still there. And you feel pain even though there's nothing left there to hurt." In which a Plegian desert storm forces the Shepherds to take refuge in the former magic school of a certain dark mage. Slight Olivia/Henry, set around Chapter 21 of Fire Emblem Awakening


**Takes place somewhere around Chapter 21, when the Shepherds are traveling through Plegia. There's maybe a little Olivia/Henry in here, but it can also be read as just Henry being awkward and Olivia being a sweetie.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.**

* * *

The looming, fortress-like building hardly looked welcoming, though as the winds picked up and a sudden chill (not to mention a great deal of sand) blew over the Shepherds like a stinging wind spell, even Frederick had to admit that they'd be best to take their chances with this potential shelter. Nights in the Plegian lands were bearable if the elements were mild, despite the sand underfoot being poor for driving in tent stakes, but not even the most foolhardy soldier would risk being caught in a desert storm.

Gaius and Panne were chosen to scout the building, the former due to his lockpicking skills and the latter due to her exceptional senses, and returned to declare the structure empty of Risen and bandits—"But quite dusty," Panne added with a displeased wrinkle of her nose. And after the orange-haired thief beside her spoke to Chrom in an impatient manner, "Hey, Blue, if we could get the okay sometime _before_ I get enough sand in my pants to make a Chon'sin zen garden, that'd be great, thanks," the Exalt finally gave the order.

Right on cue, another violent gust ripped through the air, bringing with it such a thick cloud of sand that Olivia had to bring her silk scarf to her mouth like a mask, just to be able to breath. Chrom's order prompted what could nearly be described as a stampede towards the building, everyone eager to escape the biting winds, and the pink-haired dancer heaved a deep sigh of relief when the group reached what appeared to be the main entrance; a set of set of heavy iron doors set into stone walls. Vaike and Gregor forced the doors open with little difficulty but an unpleasant _creeeaaak_, and all at once the Shepherds flooded inside.

Olivia removed her scarf from where she'd been holding it over her nose and mouth—and nearly burst out into a coughing fit, for Panne had been correct in her statement that the place was _dusty_. Glancing around while brushing sand from her hair, she saw that Ricken was shaking out his hat nearby, Nowi was rolling around on the floor cheering, "Sand angels! Sand angels!" and Tharja had already cornered Robin and was speaking in her usual low voice.

Something in the conversation between the dark mage and tactician had apparently caught Chrom's interest, for he patted Lucina's arm and then made his way over to where the duo was standing. "Tharja, what was that you were just saying?"

At this interruption, Tharja shot him an annoyed glare, while Robin took the time to sneak away and escape to where Gaius, Lissa, and Sully were all laughing at the situation. "What," the dark mage said, "you mean how I was asking Robin to help me get all this sand out of my clothes?"

(Two years ago, such a blunt answer might have left any one of the Shepherds lost for words—as it was today, however, Chrom was barely fazed.) "No, you mentioned something else. Something about this place being an academy?"

"A _magic_ academy," Tharja corrected, though as her eyes darted around she added, "No longer in business, obviously." The dark mage's gaze shifted until her eyes met Olivia's, and the dancer quickly looked away—eavesdropping was _rude_, she reminded herself inwardly, even if she was just curious about where they all would be staying tonight. But then something about the idea of a Plegian magic school brought her back to a conversation she'd had a few weeks earlier with the army's _other_ dark mage, and before Olivia could change her mind, she'd already made her way over to where Henry was examining what looked like a pile of rat skeletons.

She managed to grab his arm and drag him away before he'd picked up a handful of yellowing bones and matted fur, and instead of looking angry he just let out an amused laugh. "Hey-o, Olivia! What's going on, do you have a _bone_ to pick with me or something, aha ha ha—"

Olivia cut him off, after taking a moment to steel her nerves, and said, "This is the school where your parents sent you, isn't it?"

She wasn't sure what kind of reaction, if any, she was expecting. Still, it somehow didn't surprise her to see the grin on his face widen. "Ha ha, you remembered! Yup, this is it. I tell you, they couldn't wait to get rid of me, that's for sure. So, uh, you want a tour? Robin didn't give me anything to do, so I thought maybe…" He trailed off and smiled at her, looking boyishly hopeful.

Olivia nodded, with a shy smile of her own, and took his hand.

* * *

Abandoned as it was, the interior of this academy wasn't much worse than some of the other places the Shepherds had been forced to camp in, Olivia thought. There were plentiful torches and fireplaces set in the walls that were soon lit, and under the warm glow of light the dancer could see tapestries and paintings and stained glass windows—many of them depicting the fell dragon Grima, she noted with a shiver—all caked in dust and cobwebs. She supposed it all might have been beautiful at some point, before everything had fallen into disuse.

The rooms Henry showed her seemed fairly normal as well. A kitchen and cafeteria, both depressingly bare, that were being investigated quite thoroughly by Stahl and Gaius. A library where they found Ricken helping Miriel carry armfuls of old tomes from the bookshelves. There was even a room filled with old spears and chipped swords and suits of knight's armor—"We would use these like target dummies, to make sure our spells would be strong enough to break through the enemy's defenses," Henry laughed, going down the row and knocking his fist against each metal breastplate with a hollow _clang_, until one of them shifted and revealed itself to be Kellam.

And then, midway through pulling Henry away from another pile of rat carcasses, there was a tremendous crash from the next hallway. The two of them, as well as several other Shepherds who had been nearby, all dashed to the source of the sound with weapons drawn, expecting Risen or worse, but instead finding Sumia flat on her face next to what surely had once been a beautifully intact statue.

"You know what would be awesome?" Henry said as Olivia helped the flustered pegasus rider to her feet. "A curse to turn people to stone! Then you could make all your enemies into statues and use them as decorations around your house or lawn ornaments or something. Or just turn the enemy soldiers to stone and have Sumia run out and break them all into itty-bitty pieces. We'd win the war for sure that way."

"Oh, gods," Olivia squeaked with a grimace, "I hope you aren't saying this statue could have once been a person."

"Huuuh, this one? No, this is just a hunk of rock. Can you imagine dispelling the curse if someone was in pieces like this, though?" He picked up what was left of the carved marble head and held it face forward to show the two females; the nose and part of the lower jaw had broken off from the fall. "Imagine if this turned back into flesh and bone right now! That would be quite a sight, wouldn't it?"

Sumia, at this point, had gone from an embarrassed pink to somewhat green in the face, and quickly excused herself. Henry cheerfully waved goodbye to her, and soon the dancer and dark mage were the only ones left in the hallway. More to break the awkward silence than anything else, Olivia walked to the nearby door—the only one in this particular hallway, she noted—and pulled it open with a dull groan of rusted hinges. A hand on her arm made her pause; she glanced back at Henry with a quizzical frown. Then she looked towards the doorway and felt her heart jump in her chest.

The room was full of _spikes_.

* * *

She wouldn't have called the room an iron maiden, but it looked distressingly similar. The shadowy interior made it difficult to gauge the dimensions of the room itself, but the dancer could still see that the rusted metal spikes jutting from each wall in a neatly uniform pattern took up much of the open space. An average person would have perhaps a half swords-length on all sides before their skin would be touching the points.

"Aha ha ha, that was close, wasn't it?" Henry's voice sounded, if such a thing were possible, even more cheerful than usual. "Good thing I stopped you, huh? Wouldn't have wanted you to get all poked full of holes!"

Olivia shivered. "What, um, what _is_ this room?"

"This is where they'd stick all the kids who did bad stuff! Oh! Like that time I accidentally set the dormitories on fire. Man, those were some good times… I was put in this room for two whole days for that one. I think I almost died!" Releasing his hold on the dancer's arm in favor of reaching out to prod at the nearest metal spike, Henry let out an amused chuckle. "Aww, look how dull these are now. They used to be much sharper. There used to be a chair in here, too, even though it was hexed to be really uncomfortable to sit on."

The dark mage pulled back and gave her a bright smile. "Olivia," he asked, "did you ever get in trouble when you were little?"

The question was innocent enough, but Olivia couldn't help but think there was something hidden behind those words—some sort of ugly, foreboding implication that made her feel a little uneasy. "No, I... W-well, I was sometimes teased because I was so shy, but..." The dancer trailed off, fidgeted with her scarf for a moment, and looked away. A little more firmly, a little more _bravely_, she met her companion's expectant gaze and answered the question in full. "No. I never really got in trouble for anything."

Henry's grin widened. "So you were one of the good kids?"

"I... I guess so."

"That's great! I'm glad to hear that. See, Olivia, if you'd have gone to school here, I bet you would have been one of those students who all the teachers liked! You're so nice to me and _I_ like you a lot, so everyone else probably would have liked you a lot, too." He paused, and then giggled as if he'd just made a particularly funny joke. "Not that I would understand anything about _that_, ha ha! Everyone always told me I was a bad kid."

The dancer bit her lip, clearly uncomfortable, and said gently, "I'm sure that wasn't true."

"Everyone said it, so it must have been at least a little bit true. It doesn't really matter now. But you were one of the good kids, so they'd have never thrown you in this mean ol' room like they did with me, aha ha. Still, you want to try it out? Going inside, I mean. I'll hold your hands so you don't fall." He had that innocently hopeful, puppy dog look on his face again.

For a moment, Olivia couldn't tell if he was serious or not. And instead of heeding that tiny voice in her head that always sounded like Maribelle saying _Be more assertive, Olivia! Be confident!_ she found her refusal replaced by a feeble, "Oh, no, I wouldn't fall."

"Ha ha, you probably wouldn't, since you're a dancer and all, but it's actually pretty disorienting once you're inside and the door is shut. It's lonely, too. I was always really lonely when they'd put me in here. I would start to imagine stuff like maggots all over my body after a while... You should have seen all the blood when I flailed around into the spikes this one time!"

The grace of a professional dancer aside, Olivia's legs were beginning to shake. "…Can we, um, can we go back now, please?"

"You don't want to try it? Not even once? Well, that's okay, aha ha! I'll just close this up and we can head back to the others, then." He reached an arm out to grab the handle.

…But he did not close the door, and for a long moment just stared into the spiked room with a smile that had become somewhat fixed. Then he dropped his arm and instead clutched at his side, fingers digging into fabric and flesh.

"It's strange," he said, acknowledging Olivia's worried expression with a laugh that sounded a little distant. "It hurts a bit, when I look back into this room. Why do you think that is? I can't feel pain too well anymore, so it's a little weird."

"Maybe it's like a phantom pain?" the pink-haired dancer offered hesitantly.

"Oh, what's that? Sounds spooky."

"It happens sometimes to people who have lost a limb." After spending so much time in battle-loving Regna Ferox, Olivia had certainly seen her share of fighters missing an extremity or two. "Your mind tricks you into thinking whatever's missing is still there. And you feel pain even though there's nothing left there to hurt."

"Well, none of the Risen have managed to chop anything off me yet, so it probably isn't that. Oh, but thanks for the explanation anyway, aha ha." Finally pushing the door shut and laughing at Olivia's pinched expression when the hinges groaned in protest, the dark mage seemed to have gotten over his moment of unease. He happily offered her his hand, which she took, and as they crossed the dusty hallway the dancer's foot struck something heavy and she looked down.

There was the statue Sumia had knocked over, shattered into a thousand marble pieces. She couldn't recognize the part her foot had hit—maybe it had once been an ankle or wrist or part of a forearm. A shame, she thought, because even in a crumbly pile on the floor, it was obvious the statue had once been beautiful. Still, no amount of glue or careful handiwork would ever rebuild it to be the same as it had been before falling.

Olivia wondered if Henry was much the same way—if he had been whole and intact once, before the breaking point was reached, before the irreparable crash had cracked him into a jumbled mismatch of smiles and blood.

She wondered about this, even after they rejoined the rest of the Shepherds, even after Henry laughed and wished her goodnight, even after laying back on her bedroll and pulling the blanket up to her chin. She wondered, and thought back to the terrible room with rusty metal spikes, and felt a prickling like nails, like broken glass, like knives across her skin.


End file.
